movie rating - 3
Typical 80's teenage rebellion movie. It holds a special place in my heart for two reasons: 1) it's the first movie I saw with Kevin Bacon in it, and 2) it's the first movie I saw on a VCR (and for you young'uns out there, VCRs are what we had before DVD players). Mediocre, with a poor view of Christianity, but it's a classic, I guess. Funny bit--the whole premise is that dancing has been outlawed in this little town for years and years, and it's the story of one teen's struggle to get it brought back in. The funny part--at the big, climactic dance party at the end, most of the "average teens" who have never danced before in their lives are obviously professional dancers. How did that happen???
OK. So you've all probably heard of the seven degrees of Bacon, right? Where you can probably trace yourself to Kevin Bacon in seven steps or less? (It's kind of an old thing, but anyway, I can do it in about 4. I worked at a local theater, and knew someone who knew the sister of the old dude from MASH, who has acted with someone who was in a movie once with Kevin Bacon. All the names are escaping me right now, but that's how the game works.)
Anyway, have you ever considered that there might be degrees of homelessness? This is really weird, but I'm coming to see that there are.
We just moved to the capital city a few months ago. We actually lived here 4 years ago for six months, and when we moved back we decided to live in roughly the same area as before. Both apartments (the old and the new) look out onto this grassy park area. And at both places I could watch the daily lives of homeless families who live at the park.
The family from my previous apartment was much worse off than the one I can see now. Four years ago, the homeless family I observed slept on cardboard on the ground under a tree. They didn't seem to have much by way of a productive occupation. They argued a lot, and the kids ran free, naked most of the time. I think they collected recyclables some times, but their lives seemed mostly unstructured and chaotic.
The family that I can see now is a whole different story. The city has built outhouses in the park, and they've set up their "home" against the side of one of those outhouses. They have a wooden platform (maybe 6 foot square) , with a really big canvas umbrella for a roof. At night they drape a tarp over this umbrella to provide makeshift walls. They have running water, paid for the by government, from the outhouses. They even have a dog, of which I'm extremely jealous.
I don't know how they do it, but they get up at about the same time every morning. I can see them from my bedroom window, and I know if it's light and the tarp's still up, it's before 6:00 AM, roughly. They carefully take down the tarp and fold it and store it every day. They also have a livelihood. I don't know how they managed this, but they charge the people who use the outhouse. I mean, it's a public service, but they've put up a sign with their fee for using "their" outhouse. And people actually PAY, which is the part that kills me.
So, there are my observations on homelessness. Never thought in my life that I'd be considering that some levels of homelessness could be better than others. Sometimes I think, as I watch this current squatter family, "I could do that. It might not be so bad. Kind of like camping, maybe. At least they get to have a dog." I wonder if they think as much about my life as I do about theirs, as they see us in our apartment.
Come to think of it, I really should get curtains up on my bedroom window.
movie rating – 5
LOVED this movie. Can't get over Ewan McGregor. Nicole Kidman was great. It was so free-flowing and spontaneous. The popular songs, woven into the story were clever and delightful. Put me in mind of variety shows I used to do in my old home town. The "Roxanne" number took my breath away. We own it, of course.
Guilty confessions of a fake artist:
1. I'm not very spontaneous.
2. I've never just created something simply to create; I always need a reason or a use for the things I make.
3. I trace photos on a light table for all my illustrations.
4. Even though I love impressionism, I'm far too literal to do it.
5. I suck at matching the great artists with their work, style, time period, anything.
6. I am not nearly moody enough.
If it counts at all in my favor, once I'm engaged in a creative endeavor, I have been known to forget about eating or sleeping. That's my one hope for legitimacy.
But for all that, I love the process of creating. I actually feel that projects are kind of like epic adventures with dragons. You start out with this lofty goal in mind; things don't always go as planned. There are problems to solve, roadblocks to overcome, dragons to slay. And at the end, you achieve something wonderful, that the naysayers said you'd never accomplish. It's like a happily ever after to create something.
One of my recent favorite verses: Job 14:15, where Job says to God -- "You will call, and I will answer You; You will long for the work of Your hands." It makes me feel really special to have this creative characteristic in common with God. Like we could just sit and "talk shop" if we wanted to. Strangely enough, I don't think I'd feel bad about my artistic skills if that were to happen; up next to Him we're all big fakes. Just the thought of sitting with the Master takes my breath away.
Which reminds me of another passage from Job -- it's so beautiful. In spite of the tragedies that have befallen him, Job is holding fast to his hope of seeing God in eternity. He becomes overwhelmed at the thought. The English says: "Whom I myself shall behold; And whom my eyes will see and not another. My heart faints within me!" (Job 19:27)
Beautiful, huh? Imagine my disappointment at reading the following from a commentary on that verse: "Unfortunately these verses are largely unintelligible [in the original ancient Hebrew], including verse 27c, which reads 'my kidneys have ended in my chest'."
What?????
movie rating: 5
OK. Seriously. Nathan Lane, Matthew Broderick. You can't go wrong. And it's a musical, for pete's sake. I LOVED it! Even Uma did a pretty good job. So fun.
Well, it's been a really long time since I added anything to this blog. The biggest reason is that I've been working on a big video project. Of course, I was trying lots of new things that I had never done before (including a new video editing program, and DVD burning program), made the project way more elaborate than it had to be, and was working against a deadline. Pretty typical, if you know me at all.
But, I got it done, and it's on its way to the US by now.
I have had the thought in the last few weeks that doing this video has almost been like birthing a baby. I didn't procrastinate or anything; I've been working on it pretty steadily for the last 3 or 4 months. But still, this last week or so the pace and intensity have been picking up, until right at the last I was at my computer practically from when I got up to when I went to bed. It's like, you knew the baby was coming, you tried your best to prepare, but it gets more and more dominant in your life as the due date gets closer, and then finally there's this big push at the end to get it out. Only, once my "baby" has arrived I hand it off to others, and my part is finished. Ahhhh. But for real moms, the hard part has only just begun.
Maybe my mind was set upon this analogy by a REALLY funny misunderstanding that took place as I was working on this project. You see, I collected video interviews from people all around Asia, to include here and there in the video. However, they came in all different kinds of files and formats, and then I had to figure out how to convert them so I could use them in my video editing program. One person actually sent me the tape from their video camera (instead of converting it to a computer file). So I had to go out and hunt for someone with the same camera as theirs (and it's an old, unusual one at that), so they could upload it to a computer for me.
I thought of a national friend of ours, who actually runs his own production studio. (He's really a pretty incredible story himself: we've known him since he was a motor bike taxi driver, then he bought a car taxi, then he opened a restaurant, then he got a gig for a few years with the BBC who was doing some filming in our country, and now he's gone into the movie business himself.) I figured, if anyone could help me, he could.
So, I stopped by his restaurant to see if I could find him. He wasn't there (which is pretty typical now that he has the production company) but his sister runs the place most of the time now. So, I decided to explain my predicament to her, and see if she'd pass my message along. Of course it all took place in the national language. It went something like this:
Me: I am creating a movie, and I'm having some problems, so I thought your brother could help.
Her: You want to have a baby?
Me: NO! A movie! (and wild hand gestures to help illustrate what I meant)
To fully get the impact of the misunderstanding, I need to tell you that in the language that I was using, the word for child, and the word for movie are very similar. Child is "goan" (as in loan) and movie is "goon" (with the oo as in book). To add to the potential misunderstanding, the word I used for "create" also has the connotation of "make" or "give birth to". So, you can see how she could have been confused.
I just wonder what she thought when she heard me say I wanted her brother to help me make a baby. And my husband was standing right there the whole time! Yikes! That would give a whole new meaning to "production company" wouldn't it!
HA!
Mel Gibson version--SUPER cast, visually excellent, and it's Shakespeare. You gotta love it!
So, I've been reading through the book of Job lately. But it was too hard to understand, so I got out one of S's commentaries and have been reading through both books (Job and the commentary) a chapter at a time. It has just sprung to life for me, and it's such a beautiful, moving book. S says he never saw someone cry from reading a commentary before, except for seminary students, but they were crying for a different reason.
But I can't help it. Once you understand it, the poetry and imagery is so gut-wrenching. Literally. I feel what he is expressing so deeply sometimes that my stomach aches. In our study of the Bible I think we sometimes forget to appreciate its artistry as a superb piece of literature. To me, the book of Job far surpasses Shakespeare's Hamlet in expressing betrayal, longing, and sorrow. If I had a year to spend on an "extravagant" project, I'd adapt this book to the stage.
Anyway, I'm also really appreciating some of the commentator's observations. I have a few quotes I'd like to share with anyone who thinks there's something defective about them because they're struggling to come to grips with their faith:
"This is Bildad's wisdom. Helpful as a general guide to life; but trite, and even cruel, when the friends of God are the ones with the most trouble. Job has long since left far behind Bildad's simple classification into good and bad."
"Here Job shows himself to be a more honest observer, a more exuberant thinker, than the friends. The mind reels at the immensity of his conception of God. The little deity in the theology of Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar is easily thought and easily believed. But a faith like Job's puts the human spirit to strenuous work."
"Job has no obligation to keep to the prim conventions of pious talk just to satisfy people like Zophar. Zophar's cold disapproval shows how little he has heard Job's heart. His censorious chiding shows how little he has sensed Job's hurt. Job's bewilderment and his outbursts are natural; in them we find his humanity, and our own.… Zophar's wisdom is a bloodless retreat into theory. It is very proper, theologically familiar and unobjectionable. But it is flat beer compared with Job's seismic sincerity."
"Job's thoughts are as violent as the sieve of testing in which God has permitted the Satan to shake him. He appeals to God to make his agony endurable by making it meaningful. Otherwise let Him show pity by bringing Job to death. Job's pain has the authenticity of all who have been injured in their wrestling with God, even though they limp for the rest of their life. If he seems defiant, it is the daring of faith. All Job has known about God he still believes. But God's inexplicable ways have his mind perplexed to breaking point. Job is in the right; but he does not know that God is watching with silent compassion and admiration until the test is fully done and it is time to state His approval publicly."
These words, and the story behind them, have been food to my soul lately. I hope you find them as nourishing as I have.
I know what you mean about being tired, but there's no going back. The struggle is the most real thing about us.
PS: The book is part of Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries, and it's just called Job. Francis I. Andersen is the author.
movie rating: 2
movie rating: 3
clever and suspenseful, love Pierce, love art, could've done without some of the sensuality
OK. I have a confession to make. I have a sort of emotional attachment to my paint brush. Not every paint brush I own, just this certain one. I've had it since college. I splurged on it when I really couldn't afford it. Not that it's made from sable bristles or anything, it was just a little nicer than the cheap-os and I took the plunge. It's two inches wide, has a plain wooden handle, and feels so nice in my hand. Sometimes I even stroke the bristles over my cheek, or my arm. It's just sort of comforting. I've taken really good care of this brush, and have had many, many happy hours of creating with it. (I used to paint a lot of scenery for plays.) Which makes the following story so sad...
It's been a while since my brush and I have painted any scenery, but I have used it to make the various homes we've lived in a little nicer. We just moved to our current apartment two months ago, and I'm still working to make it "ours". Three weeks ago on a Saturday, I decided to paint another wall. With a sense of anticipation I got our my favorite brush. I moved furniture, set out newspapers, and opened the paint can. I was ready. Two steps away lay my brush on a table, waiting for me. I eagerly went for it and BAM! I stubbed my toe on one of the last remaining boxes waiting to be unpacked after our move. I looked down and the toe was twisted at a grotesque angle, clearly broken. I looked back at my brush, innocently sitting there on the table, and just felt betrayed. How could it be part of this ugly equation?
It's still sitting there, three weeks later, right where I left it. I'll get over it, I guess, but it's going to take some time.
* * * * *
Just as a side note, this past week was kind of bad because I came down with some stomach ailments. (That's not unusual. It happens frequently in a developing country.) But, I'm still not very mobile with my broken toe. So, anyone who's ever had any of those urgent flu-like symptoms understands the need for speed sometimes when trying to get to the bathroom. However, this week I wasn't getting anywhere fast. Which left me in some - ahem - precarious predicaments. Enough said. I think you get the picture.
movie rating: 3
interesting premise, good acting, a little bizarre at times, thought provoking
I've decided to use movie titles for my blog headings. When possible, I'll try to make it fit with the content of the blog. Might be biting off more that I can chew, but we'll give it a whirl. I'll also rate the movie, if I've seen it, 1 being the worst, 5 being the best. We just watched this one last week.
Also, I'm realizing that the internet set-up we have here is not conducive to good blog technique. We live in a developing country, and internet is free only from 7 pm to 7 am every weekday, and from 12:00 noon on Saturday to midnight on Sunday. Which means that to get on any other time is kind of expensive. So, I've been saving up things I want to say until the weekend, which kind of defeats the spontaneity and freshness with which, so I understand, blogs are supposed to be written. But, we don't live in a perfect world, do we? So... my first stored-up entry from the week:
We live in a second floor apartment. Below us, our landlord has a joint lingerie/laundry business. She hires girls from the countryside to come in and wash the clothes. Now, like I said, we live in a developing country, and education is not very good here. I'm not saying people are stupid, they're just not encouraged to think or solve problems like we are. Sometimes I wonder what it's like to be them. Here are two examples from the past week or so:
scenario 1. My husband, S, was coming back from an errand. The four laundry girls were finished with their work and were sitting around, just laughing and laughing. They seemed embarrassed that S had caught them in such a gleeful state, and the following conversation ensued:
girl 1: We like to laugh a lot.
S: What were you laughing about.
all girls: blank stares
girl 1: We just like to laugh.
* * * * *
scenario 2: For this one you need a little background. In my town, the tallest building is maybe 10 stories high. So it was a big deal when they announced there were building one that would be 32 stories. It's going up just one block from our house. It has a really big crane, and from our apartment you can see men moving like little ants all over it. At night they keep building sometimes, and the big crane has lights on it.
So, one evening S went down to put our motorbike away. (We park it, by the way, in the lingerie shop. We pay 25 cents a night for the privilege.) He saw the laundry girls, and the young son of our landlord all in a line, along the edge of the sidewalk, standing quietly, not really doing anything.
S: What are you doing?
girl 1: We're watching the building.
* * * * *
OK. So, maybe you had to be there for the second one, because it was dark and there really wasn't that much to see. The only thing to watch was the lights on the big crane swing back and forth. But anyway, sometimes I wonder if life would be nicer if I could see the world the way they do. Or would it?
I had a night like that last week. And the worst thing is that my thoughts were in the same state. Problems and questions I had been wrestling with during the day just whirred and spun in my mind in a never-ending circle of conjecture. I had conversations with people who weren't there to hear. I followed my thoughts to their logical conclusion, only to end up right where I had begun. I re-hashed the same argument a thousand times, from different angles. And all I really wanted to do was go back to sleep. I hate nights like that.
I think a lot of things, and only really have one person to share them all with. While he's great, and always willing to listen, he's a man of few words, and I can tell that my gushing flow of stream-of-consciousness thought overwhelms him sometimes.
Other times, I think I should write down what I'm thinking. Maybe some one else could be helped or encouraged by my conclusions. The only thing is, I've tried journaling before, and am always embarrassed when I go back to read them years later. Like I thought I was being so deep, but I just sound stupid. What if I wrote a book, and my stupidity was forever documented, marketed, and copied by the thousands? I wonder if authors ever look back at a book they wrote years ago, and feel kind of dumb.
Anyway, that's why I'm giving this blog thing a try. (That and a little pressure from a friend.) I'm currently pretty far away from most people who know and care about me. Maybe I'll eventually let them in, and it will be a way to keep in touch. But mostly, it might be a good way to untangle my thoughts when they get snarled, and rest.
on P6070048